


No One Else But Us

by tullyblue12



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jaime and Sansa work together, Jaimsa, Modern AU, No Twincest, Slow Burn, the great houses are the wealthiest families, tyrion's a shipper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-03-30 20:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tullyblue12/pseuds/tullyblue12
Summary: "What would I do without you?""You wouldn't get very far.""Then it's a good thing you're not going anywhere."Everyone needs a passion. Young socialite Sansa Stark finds hers working for the Lannisters.





	1. The Mighty Lannisters

**Author's Note:**

> I am having so much fun with this story! The first few chapters will be establishing the characters in this modern au, and then we can get to all the jaime/sansa goodness. I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoy writing it!

Tyrion saw her first. Naturally curious, he wondered who Margaery Tyrell’s newest pet could be. He recognized Margaery’s work anywhere in the young socialites of King’s Landing, and while he recognized most of the young ladies at his father’s party, this one escaped his memory. But Tyrion remembered everyone and everything, so he concluded that she had never been introduced to him.

“Sansa, allow me to introduce you to Tyrion Lannister, the younger son of Tywin Lannister. Tyrion, this is my friend, Sansa Stark. She’s staying with my family for the summer.”

 _Stark._ A Stark south of Winterfell was a curious thing indeed.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She curtsied elegantly, and he took the liberty of pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“The pleasure’s all mine. How do you find the nation’s capital?”

She smiled beautifully, perfect teeth peeking out from her crimson lips. Her red hair was pinned up and decorated with a few jewels, one of Margaery’s most beloved hairdos, and the gown she wore was a lovely pale blue. Had he not had a girlfriend, he would have pursued Sansa Stark romantically. Instead, he pursued her analytically.

“It’s beautiful,” she said sincerely. “It’s exactly what I imagine a capital should look like.”

“And how do you find our home this evening?”

“It befits the mighty Lannisters.”

He chuckled. “Mighty? Surely, that’s an inaccurate description.”

“On the contrary. Your family has had quite a hand in the prosperity of Westeros.”

Tyrion decided to address the elephant in the room. “Even if your father disapproves of how we did it?” Sansa’s eyes fluttered nervously to the floor. “Forgive me, Miss Stark, I meant no offense.”

“It is I who must ask forgiveness. I would not wish my appearance this evening to unsettle the members of your family.”

“As beautiful as you look tonight, you are incapable of unsettling anyone,” he assured her. “Come, I will prove it to you. Let me introduce you to the other members of my family. Margaery, if you’ll excuse us.”

Sansa wanted Margaery to accompany them. She felt strange taking Tyrion Lannister’s arm and anxious at the thought of meeting the other Lannisters, especially Cersei Baratheon Lannister, whom she admired most. She must not have masked her discomfort well because Tyrion patted her hand reassuringly.

“Nothing to fear, my dear. They’re not _really_ lions.”

Sansa laughed, nerves finally calming. He was referring to the logo of Lannister Companies, a roaring golden lion on a red background. Her father always thought the image was grotesque, but she tried not to think of her father’s opinions now. She wouldn’t let his biases dampen her adventure in King’s Landing.

Tyrion introduced her immediately to Tywin Lannister, an imposing figure though the gracious host of the night’s summer gala. He was the father of Tyrion and Jaime Lannister, head of Lannister Companies. Sansa’s brother Robb always said that they shouldn’t be allowed to run the world the way they did, and it was true. Tywin Lannister had a long career in politics and currently held the office of Vice President to Robert Baratheon. In order to oversee his responsibilities in office, he ceded the board of Lannister Banking to Tyrion, Lannister Building to Jaime, and Lannister Tech to his sister Genna. Most great families of Westeros excelled in a specific sector of industry; her own family was known for lumber. Still, no family had as much influence as the Lannisters.

“Father, this is Sansa Stark, a guest of Margaery Tyrell.”

“Margaery chooses her friends well. I hear that you have graduated early from the White Harbor Academy of Arts.”

“Yes, I have just finished.”

“Very impressive for a girl of 20. What will you do now that you have finished?”

“The plan is to put my education to use.”

“I’m sure your father means to enlist you for Stark Forestry.”

“He has given me leeway to pursue other interests as his company does not excite my passion.”

“It also can’t hurt that you have several other siblings to work there in the future. Perhaps we can spend more time over the summer discussing what _does_ excite your passion, but if you’ll excuse me, I must return to my other guests.”

“Yes, of course.”

The interaction was not nearly as terrifying as Sansa thought it would be. She exhaled in relief before realizing where Tyrion was leading her this time. They were heading towards the woman who had appeared in every single fashion magazine Sansa could remember. Cersei Baratheon Lannister looked so lovely in person, the embodiment of exactly the kind of woman Sansa always wanted to be. She loved her mother dearly and learned everything she knew from her, but she never could imagine herself in the future to be exactly like Catelyn Stark. Instead, she saw a woman like Cersei.

Cersei Baratheon Lannister was the younger sister of President Robert Baratheon, wife to the renowned and handsome Jaime Lannister, mother to two beautiful children, and the head of her own fashion empire. Catelyn Stark always thought Cersei’s designs were a little too racy? for a young Northern girl, but Sansa still fantasized about growing up and becoming the woman the designs were always meant for. She even sketched some designs of her own while studying at the academy.

“Sister,” Tyrion greeted hyperbolically. Cersei only scowled but quickly fixed her expression when she noticed Sansa.

“Mrs. Lannister, I am a great admirer or your work. I have been following your career since I first learned to read.”

Cersei smiled at the compliment. “I take it you are a lover of fashion. Your gown is lovely by the way.”

Sansa blushed. “Thank you. Yes, I think fashion is extraordinary.”

“Excellent. It shall be wonderful to have you as a neighbor this summer. I probably won’t see you much since I am very busy—”

“Oh, I understand perfectly.”

“Good. It was nice to meet you, Miss Stark.”

Even though Tyrion focused on the members of his family, there were so many influential people in the room. It would not have affected her as much if her father had ever introduced her in society when she was younger, but he had kept her hidden away in the north with only her siblings and their pets for entertainment. It was by coincidence that she had met Margaery Tyrell, who had gone skiing near White Harbor and decided to stop by the academy to visit a few friends. The two of them became fast friends, and now Sansa was touring the Lannister estate on Tyrion Lannister’s arm.

When he returned her to Margaery soon after, she was thrilled. “So how did the introductions go? Who did you meet?”

“I met Tywin and Cersei Lannister—"

“Yes, I know about those two already.”

“Renly Baratheon—”

“Isn’t he just the sweetest?”

“Trystane Martell—"

“Oh, I get lost in those eyes every time.”

“And Petyr Baelish.”

“That’s it?” Margaery asked. “No Jaime Lannister. I wanted you to meet Jaime Lannister, so we could talk about _him_.”

Sansa laughed. “What is there to discuss? He is married to Cersei.”

“Oh, Darling, I know how you feel about Cersei now, but trust me, you’ll hate her when you meet Jaime Lannister. That’s how beautiful that man is.”

“I know how beautiful that man is. I’ve seen him on so many magazine covers…next to Cersei Baratheon!”

“Believe me, she doesn’t deserve him.”

“Let’s change topics. It is impolite to comment on another’s marriage.”

Margaery rolled her eyes. The two girls had several interests in common, but they were also raised _very_ differently. Sansa was told never to take what belonged to someone else. Margaery never operated by this principle. Nothing was off limits for the Tyrell rose.

They still had fun during the summer. Sansa called home occasionally, but not as frequently as she probably should have. She wanted to tell her mother that she was staying true to her Stark roots; she knew her mother always feared she’d be easily led astray. They were hesitant to approve her summer excursion with Margaery, though she technically did not need their permission. Still, their approval was something she always longed for.

Margaery invited Tyrion over to the Tyrell mansion a couple times during the summer, and he was eager to accept the invitation. Margaery’s grandmother, Olenna Tyrell usually joined them, and Sansa enjoyed listening to Olenna and Tyrion’s conversations.

“We all know the country’s finances are of paramount importance. Too many people are borrowing money without paying it back—”

Olenna interrupted. “Too many banks are loaning money knowing full well the people will _not_ be able to pay it back,” she said pointedly.

“You know fully well that I am not responsible for every loan.”

“What _will_ you take responsibility for as the head of Lannister Banking?”

Tyrion smiled. “Lower interest rates for the masses, not that the masses can pay them.”

Sansa decided to speak up then. “It is not solely a problem that rests on the banks’ shoulders. We all know that we’re still recovering from Aerys Targaryen’s time in office. The job market has improved significantly. Education’s improving. The Great Houses have been instrumental in investing in reform. It’s better the economy improves on a steady slope instead of too drastically.”

“Sansa, it’s best to leave the finances to the adults,” Margaery advised lightheartedly.

“We _are_ adults, Margaery.”

What Margaery really meant was that it was best to leave business talk to the heirs. Margaery’s brothers would inherit responsibility before she would, and it was the same for Sansa. It was why she could attend the White Harbor Academy and spend her summer in King’s Landing. Robb would have no such luxury. Sansa was not expected to yield great results, but her parents had instilled in her a sense of duty. Her family was rich, and it was their responsibility to use their finances for the good of the North.

“Perhaps we should change the topic,” Tyrion suggested, though he was very interested in hearing more from Sansa. “Are you growing tired of King’s Landing yet, Miss Stark? You’ve been here a month already.”

“I don’t think I could,” she answered.

“We do. That’s why we only stay for the summer. We spend the rest of the year back home in the Reach,” Olenna reminded them. They would be bidding their summer home goodbye soon. Margaery and her brothers would return South, and Sansa would go North.

“I will be very sad to say goodbye,” Sansa admitted, taking a second to memorize the garden around them. They always ate one meal a day in the rose gardens outside of their estate. The breeze was just enough to offer respite from the heat, and they were close enough to Blackwater Bay to hear the waves hit the shore, even if she could not see the water from their dining area. She walked on the beach often with Margaery. Her friend even taught her how to float in the water. She had never known anything more relaxing.

“If you wish to stay in King’s Landing beyond the summer, Miss Stark, perhaps I can entice you to stay on in the employ of my family,” Tyrion offered before he took another sip of tea. “My sister-in-law is always in need of help.”

Sansa’s breath shuddered. “You mean, I could work for Cersei Baratheon-Lannister?”

Tyrion chuckled. “You admire the woman much more than I do, but I’m sure a position could be arranged. Cersei seemed to like you when you met, and she often takes the daughters of noblemen under her wing.”

Margaery frowned. “She never took to me.”

Her grandmother rolled her eyes. “ _You_ couldn’t stop throwing yourself at her husband.”

“Would you have me do otherwise, Grandmother? I am who you taught me to be.”

“At least you have learned to be more discreet since that disaster.”

“Well, what do you say, Miss Stark?”

“I would be honored, Mr. Lannister!”

“Could your parents spare you longer? For the dishonorable Lannisters?”

Sansa waved her worries away, justifying the offer. She could always go back home if she wanted; it wasn’t as if the Lannisters were trapping her. Surely, her mother would be proud that she would work for such an influential woman. She could console her father by reminding him that Cersei, though a Lannister now, was foremost a Baratheon, the sister of her father’s good friend. She loved her home, but every day she spent in King’s Landing, she felt lighter. She felt like she was finally where she belonged. This was where she would make her path.

“I’ll placate any protests,” she promised. “Thank you so much, Mr. Lannister.”

“Don’t thank me until you’re on the payroll.”

Cersei wasn’t too difficult to convince. She could always use more assistants. Tyrion wanted to show Cersei some of Sansa’s sketches, but his sister-in-law was more interested in Sansa’s ability as a secretary.

“She has experience with children, too, doesn’t she?”

“What do you mean?”

“She is the second of five children. Surely, she knows something about children. She can help the nanny with Myrcella and Tommen.”

“I think she can be more valuable to your company than that,” Tyrion asserted. “She shows talent and insight. I can tell she would do good humanitarian work. You’re in desperate need of good publicity.”

Cersei’s jaw clenched. “I am popular enough.”

“You don’t come off too warm to me.”

“That’s because I don’t like you very much. I don’t like the things you say to Jaime.”

“Funny, I don’t like the things you say to him either.”

“You have hated me since the day Jaime and I announced our engagement. You hate that you cannot order him around anymore.”

“Oh, it’s not that. I have no need to boss my brother around. I just hate watching him follow you instead. It’s all going to come to a head one day. A house cannot stand on a shaky foundation.”

She scoffs. “I assure you, there is nothing shaky about our foundation.”

“Then let’s see how you two stand the test of time,” he said menacingly. Before he left her to stew in her own anger, he added, “Sansa Stark starts the first day of autumn.”

“What’s your interest in the girl?” she asked to his retreating figure.

Without turning back to her, he answered, “I can’t explain it exactly. I just think she belongs here.”

He didn’t elaborate any further. Cersei didn’t know if he meant she belonged _here_ in King’s Landing, or _here_ within the company she had built, or _here_ with the Lannisters, but she thought he was wrong. Starks were only meant to be in the North, where their stonehearted values derived from dreary lifestyles. Cersei smiled to herself. If anything, it would be fun to see how long the Stark girl would last.


	2. A Different Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to see the interest in this story! Hope you like the new chapter!

The suitcases she brought fit nicely into her apartment in the center of the city. She wanted to live closer to the Lannister Companies Office Buildings, but the Lannisters offered to have a car sent for her every morning and return her every evening. The whole street consisted of the office buildings, but Sansa thought they looked more like towers. Each was decorated with the Lannister logo, the crimson lion. Cersei’s business, Style of Cersei, had its own building. The main warehouse comprised the first fifty floors, while the top floors were offices occupied by Cersei and her assistants. Lannister Tech and Lannister Building shared an office building across the street, while the board of Lannister Banking met within the capital building, The Red Keep.   

On days off, when Sansa wanted to see the city a little more, she didn’t mind walking. She would pay for a driver on rainy days, but when the sun was out, and the air as kind as the first day she arrived, she would walk happily through the bustling city. She thrived on the life around her. 

She greeted her driver, Sandor Clegane, cheerily every morning, even if he didn’t share her enthusiasm. He would deliver her to Cersei promptly, who was always busy with her own tasks. 

“How can I help, Mrs. Lannister?” she would ask, and Cersei never failed to present her with a long list of instruction. Sansa spent most of the day on the phone, straightening out any problem that befell her mistress. She contacted the warehouses when they weren’t producing clothing efficiently. She contacted the stages where Cersei’s shows were supposed to be held. She wrote out invitations for the guests to Cersei’s shows. She sifted through thousands and thousands of headshots from girls her age trying to earn a spot on Cersei’s runway.

Today was different. When the phone rang in the office given to Sansa, she answered. 

“Style of Cersei. This is Sansa Stark. How can I help you today?”

“ _ Stark _ . There’s a surprise,” spoke a smug, deep voice on the other line. 

“Yes, sir. How may I help you?”

“It seems my wife can’t answer her personal line this morning.”

Sansa’s eyes widened. She had not yet been introduced to Jaime Lannister. “Good morning, Mr. Lannister. Mrs. Lannister is currently in a meeting with her chief marketing officer in preparation for the unveiling of her new line. Can I take a message?” 

His voice sounded strained. “When she is available, can you tell her that the nanny claims to be sick, and I have to make an appearance on one of my building sites this afternoon? I need someone at the estate by noon to arrive on time.” 

“Yes, Mr. Lannister, I will let her know.”

He hung up without another word, and Sansa hurriedly glanced at her watch. It was already a quarter to 11, and Cersei would likely be caught up in the meeting for a couple more hours. When it was half past 11, and Sansa still had not been able to pass the message along to Cersei, her mind was made up. She set up a voicemail to the office phone she was responsible for answering, directing the caller to Sansa’s personal cell line instead and hurried downstairs to her driver, who was halfway through a mess of a meatball sandwich. 

“I’m not supposed to take you home until 5, and if you quit, then I can’t take you anywhere.”

“Sandor, will you take me to the Lannister estate? I have to look after the Lannister children today.” 

He should have asked her for proof, and she wouldn’t have been able to give it to him, but he set the sandwich in the passenger seat and shifted the gear of the black town car to drive. 

Sansa sighed in relief. “Thank you,” she said. When her cell phone rang, she suddenly remembered a key tool she had forgotten to bring to the car with her.

She asked her driver, “Would you happen to have a pen and paper?” 

He tossed a pen back to her from the pocket of his coat along with the wrinkled receipt for his meatball sandwich. It would have to do. She straightened the receipt the best she could against the seat in front of her and answered the call. 

“Style of Cersei. This is Sansa Stark. How may I help you today? Mrs. Lannister is currently in a meeting. May I take a message? Yes ma’am. Would you mind spelling your name for me? M-E-L-I-S-A-N-D-R-E. Thank you so much. I will let Mrs. Lannister know. Have a great day!” 

“So you’re still Cersei Lannister’s little bird, saying kind words on her behalf,” her driver remarked as she finished copying her scrawl on the receipt. 

“That’s what an assistant does.” 

“Tell me, why does Ned Stark’s daughter need to be an assistant? You were born high enough not to serve anyone.”

Sansa shook her head. “Highborn citizens have responsibilities to the men and women they employ. We’re supposed to serve Westeros.” 

“You’re probably the only highborn who thinks that way.” 

“I can’t be.” 

“You’re not in a good place for a giving person. There is only selfishness here, little bird.” 

Sandor’s cynicism alarmed her, but she chose not to dwell on it when they arrived at the pointed fences of the Lannister estate. Sandor typed his security code into the alarm system and the gates opened for the car. Sansa looked at her watch. 11:54. The head of the household staff opened the door for her when she knocked, and she immediately asked to be taken to Jaime Lannister. 

The butler, who had introduced himself as Addam Marbrand, led her to a grand room on the second floor where Jaime Lannister had a young toddler thrown over his shoulder and young girl around his ankle as he playfully dragged her along the carpet, littered in children’s books and toys. All three of them were laughing, and it reminded her of how her father used to play with her and her siblings while her mother looked on with a smile that betrayed the disapproving shake of her head. 

Jaime looked up when Addam announced her and quieted his children. 

“Sansa Stark for you, Master Jaime.”

“Sansa Stark? The girl who answered the phone? Cersei sent  _ you _ ?”

“I sent myself actually,” Sansa said, and Jaime’s eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “I was not able to speak to Mrs. Lannister while she was in her meeting, so I set something up to receive calls to the office on my personal phone. That way, I can work and watch the children.” 

“Thank you. You will be well compensated for it,” he promised. 

She appreciated it, but it wasn’t necessary. “You should be going, Mr. Lannister. You said you needed to leave by noon,” she reminded him. 

He left with a kiss to the cheeks of both children. “Thanks again, Miss Stark.” 

“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Lannister.” 

Their daughter, Myrcella, was three years old and more energetic than Sansa thought possible. Tommen was eighteen months old, and both children showed signs of needing naps soon. Since Sansa was not familiar with the two children, she called on Addam Marbrand to fill in the informational gaps. He was able to tell her when they would need to eat and when they usually went to sleep. Apparently, Myrcella would also have a piano lesson at 3 that she would need to sit in on. She realized too late that Jaime never told her when he would be back.

While Myrcella had her piano lesson, Sansa read story after story to Tommen. Every time she finished one, he would set the book aside and crawl back into her lap with another one. She liked reading the stories to him, and it hurt her to interrupt their story time when her phone rang. 

“Style of Cersei. This is Sansa Stark—”

“What possessed you to leave the office?” Cersei demanded. She must have finished her meeting finally. 

“I am sorry, Mrs. Lannister, but Mr. Lannister called with an emergency. I am watching Myrcella and Tommen while he is gone. I am sorry I could not ask your permission while you were in the meeting.” 

“He specifically asked for  _ you _ ?” her boss asked.

“Well, not exactly, ma’am. He just asked that someone be sent.”

“So you abandoned your work.” 

Her heart was beating so fast. Cersei sounded furious. “Mrs. Lannister, I promise I’ve taken every message that would have come through. I’ve been answering calls all day.” 

“So you haven’t been properly supervising my children either. What a shame. I’ll be there in an hour. I’ll dismiss you then.” 

Cersei hung up, and Sansa couldn’t help but feel like Cersei meant to dismiss her from her position permanently. Perhaps Sandor was right, and there wasn’t really a place in Kings Landing for Sansa. How could she have failed so quickly when she thought she had everything under control? Tommen rested his head against Sansa’s chest and opened the new book he’d procured to a random page. The action brought her attention back to him. 

“You want to start in the middle of the book instead of the beginning, Tommen?” He nodded, and she couldn’t help but laugh even though her nerves were running wild. “Okay, then, we shall start in the middle. Hopefully, we won’t be too confused.”  

They read to the sound of Myrcella’s delicate arpeggios, which continued for another forty-five minutes. The piano instructor left, and Myrcella joined Sansa and Tommen for one of the stories she was reading. 

“How did you like your lesson, Myrcella?”

“I like the piano,” the girl said sweetly. 

Sansa gently tucked a strand of blonde hair behind the girl’s hair and noticed that her braid had become slightly unkempt. She sat Myrcella in her lap to fix it. 

“I like the piano too,” Sansa told her. “What’s your favorite part about it?”

Myrcella shrugged as Sansa wove the locks into a neat braid. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, yes you do,” Sansa playfully insisted.

“I like the music,” the girl finally stated.

“Music is one of the most magical parts of life. It’s a gift to play an instrument like that. Keep up your practice and you’ll be making magic your whole life. How does that sound?”

Sansa could see every tooth in Mycella’s smile. “Sounds good.”

When Cersei arrived shortly after in a car like Sansa’s, the young woman held her breath and awaited the sentencing of her boss. She wondered if she had truly done something wrong but didn’t realize it because she hadn’t ever had a real job before. She’d been a good student at the academy and an obedient child for the most part, but she had never been an employee before. Perhaps there was something she wasn’t understanding. 

The anxiety rose as Cersei lovingly greeted her children. Sansa knew she would receive no such kindness form the woman, and she was prepared to apologize to keep her place at Style of Cersei. Tyrion had told her that if she stayed on long enough, Cersei may start to incorporate some of her designs and even allow her to organize events for some of Sansa’s favorite charities. Those opportunities would never come now. She’d have to find a new form of art to pursue; she’d never work in the fashion world again. 

“Sansa, may I speak to you privately downstairs?” Cersei asked. 

“Yes, ma’am,” agreed Sansa as humbly as she could. 

“I gave you your job, and you walked away from it. You know this means that you cannot be trusted to fulfill the responsibilities I’ve given you.”

“I understand.”

“Then I will have to ask you to leave the company and—”

The door jerked open, and Jaime walked in. He must have noticed the sadness in Sansa’s face and the disappointment in Cersei’s. Removing his sunglasses from his eyes, he asked, “What’s going on here?”

Cersei quickly embraced her husband, and he kissed her lips chastely. “Oh, nothing,” Cersei told him. “I’m just having a little trouble with an employee of mine. She didn’t do what I asked her to.”

Jaime’s eyes met Sansa’s. “No, but she did what _ I _ asked her to,” he informed his wife as he set his briefcase beside the steps and handed his suit jacket to Mr. Marbrand. “You couldn’t be reached. Miss Stark helped us today in a tough situation.”

“Miss Stark didn’t even try to pass along the message to me. I would have rearranged my schedule to be with the children.”

“I love you, Cersei, but we both know you wouldn’t.” His wife protested, but he continued. “It’s not an issue, but I needed to run over to the building site today. You shouldn’t be punishing Miss Stark. You should be thanking her. Only loyal employees volunteer themselves for babysitting duty.” 

Sansa smiled at him gratefully, still too nervous to speak. He could not have known just how much he had saved her in that moment. Cersei’s lips were pressed together tightly when she said, “That is all for today, Sansa. Sandor will be at your apartment at 8:30 tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Mrs. Lannister. I left the messages upstairs in your study for you.”

“Thank you.” 

Sansa couldn’t leave the Lannister estate quickly enough after that. She would have to be nothing less than perfect in the future to make up for her error in Cersei’s eyes. Jaime’s input had saved her this evening, but she wasn’t likely to encounter Jaime Lannister again anytime soon.

At dinner that night, in the Lannister estate, Jaime asked Cersei how her meeting with his cousin Lancel went. Lancel had been Cersei’s chief marketing officer for almost a year now, and Cersei commended his work in drawing audiences to her shows. 

“It went well, though it dragged on.”

“I’ll have to tell Lancel to be more concise.”

“Please do,” Cersei urged.

“How long have you had Ned Stark’s daughter working for you?” he wondered. 

“Three weeks now. Tyrion recommended her. He thinks she has talent. Apart from today, though, she’s good at following orders. That’s not too surprising considering the family she comes from. Aren’t Starks all about loyalty?” 

“Loyalty and honor.”

“Antiquated ideals,” Cersei said. 

“Myrcella said she liked Sansa a lot.”

“Myrcella likes everyone,” Cersei countered. 

Jaime took another sip of wine. “Why don’t you tell me why  _ you _ don’t like her?” 

“I know she’s trying to push some of her designs into my fashion lines.”

“Well, are her designs good?”

“That’s not the point.”

“They are, aren’t they?” he goaded. “How good are they?”

“Not as good as mine,” she seethed. 

“Do you think she means to compete with you?”

“I know she does.”

“Not many people rush over to help out with a competitor’s children. She watched them for over four hours today, and she still took calls for you. If you don’t want an assistant dedicated to her job like that, I’ll take her off your hands.” 

“What?” his wife shouted.

“And what’s got you upset now?”

“Why would you want her to work for you? What did she say to you?”

“She didn’t say anything to me, Cersei, and there’s nothing to worry about. I’m not trying to seduce her, if that’s what angers you. You should know by now that I only have eyes for you.” 

“Good,” Cersei said. 

Jaime’s jaw tightened when she replied. Words of love always left his lips first. Sometimes they were returned, and sometimes they were not. If he ever stopped his affirmations, she was provoked to anger, though she never initiated her own. He had been met with the painful realization soon after the marriage that he was plagued with loving his wife more than she loved him. He was sure she loved him, but while he loved her above anyone else, she could not love him more than she already loved herself. 


	3. Conversations with Parents

“Is Dad angry with me? He’s been short on the phone,” said Sansa.

Catelyn Stark sighed. Her daughter was twenty years old now, a woman grown. Why did she want to keep things from her still? “We just expected you to come home when the summer ended, that’s all. Now that you’re staying in King’s Landing and working for the Lannisters…” It was hard to keep the disdain from her voice, and she knew her daughter heard it. 

“I know he doesn’t like them.”

“There is a very complicated history between them. You know the government when you were younger was less than desirable.”

“I know, but I don’t understand why there’s such a divide now. Father  _ wanted _ the Targaryen administration overruled. The Lannisters helped to do that. Shouldn’t he be grateful?”

“Darling, your father will be bitter about how everything was handled until the day he dies. Tywin Lannister served Aerys Targaryen as his Vice President for years, since before you were born, hating him all the while. Your father believes no good man would serve a corrupt leader.”

It was a story she had told Sansa a million times. “Yes, I know. He says the Lannisters have no honor.” 

For one of the first times since Catelyn and Ned first shared their dislike of the Lannisters, Catelyn suspected Sansa doubted them. Quickly, she added, “Jaime Lannister was dishonorably discharged from the military very soon after he started his career in it. Did you read that in all those society magazines you loved so much?” 

Sansa hesitated to reply. She likely did not know about Jaime Lannister’s brief military career. It was never mentioned anymore, as if he had only ever overseen the Lannister Building Company, as if he had always been Cersei Baratheon’s princely husband.  Tywin Lannister likely paid well to insure the papers didn’t dwell on the indiscretion. To this day, no one even knew why he’d been dishonorably discharged.

She could tell these two little details weren’t enough to sway her daughter. The Lannisters probably showered her with everything Sansa had ever dreamed of as a girl.  _ She’s not a girl anymore _ , Catelyn reminded herself. It was time to stop sparing her from the grim truth. 

“Sansa, your father suspects Tywin Lannister had prior knowledge about the Tower of Joy.”

“ _ What _ ?” Sansa gasped, and the sound of the air leaving her lungs was exactly what Catelyn had hoped to avoid.  “Mother, if that’s the case, I’ll put in my letter of resignation immediately.”

“No!” her mother shouted at her, likely doing nothing to ease Sansa’s tension. “He has no proof. He’ll never have the proof. It’s been thirteen years now. I bet you don’t even remember.”

“I’ll always remember,” Sansa vowed. 

_ Not as well as I _ , thought Catelyn.

Sansa had been seven years old at the time of the tragedy. She couldn’t remember much of what the world was like; Ned and Catelyn had sheltered their children during the time of political instability, hushing their questions with gentle words and kind smiles. There was no hiding that fateful day.  

Before Ned and Catelyn even married, Ned’s dearest sibling Lyanna, eloped with the son of Aerys Targaryen as soon as she legally could. Lyanna knew their father would never approve of the match. Rhaegar Targaryen was much older than Lyanna, and a recently divorced father of two so it caused quite the scandal. The Starks eventually accepted the marriage after their initial shock, and when Aerys’s government became more and more controversial, Lyanna and Rhaegar sought refuge in one of the Targaryen family homes, The Tower of Joy in Dorne. Catelyn remembered how desperate Ned’s father Rickard and brother Brandon were to travel south and offer comfort to Lyanna. Ned had been left to run the business in their absence.  

Catelyn would never forget the sound of her husband’s cries when he received the news that the tower had been bombed. It was the most forlorn she had ever seen him, and the carefree man who once played with their children would never return to her again. Catelyn felt sorry for their youngest child Rickon. He was the only one of their five children who had not been born yet and so he was the only one who would never know how happy his father used to be.  

The only survivors were Lyanna’s son Jon and his half-sister, Rhaegar’s daughter Rhaenys, who had been playing outside when the bomb went off. After losing his son, Aerys delved further into lunacy and was forced to step down from power. Ned had no proof that Tywin deserved the blame, but grieving men believed what they wanted.

“Does he hate that I work for them?” Sansa asked uncertainly, almost child-like. Sansa still lived to make her mother and father happy. How long would it take for her to understand that they only wanted  _ her _ to be happy, to live her short life so fully? Ned may have been a little different, but as far as Catelyn was concerned, there was no  _ one _ path she wanted her daughter to take. 

 “No, my sweet girl. He knows how great of an opportunity this is for you. Cersei Baratheon Lannister is the most influential woman in Westeros. She can open doors for you that your father and I can’t here in the North.” 

“If you want me to stop working for them, I will.” 

“We do not want you to, Sansa. We only want you to come home sometime. We miss you terribly.”

“Even with everyone else?” Sansa asked. 

Catelyn laughed. “My children are not interchangeable. For as long as one of you is away, I will miss that one.”

“I miss you too, Mother. Will you tell everyone I miss and love them?”

“I will, Sansa.”

They hung up the call shortly after, once Catelyn was sure Sansa’s enthusiasm for her job had not been dampened. Later, at dinner, she glared at her husband, but she would not tell him why. He asked her for a reason, but even she couldn’t identify the exact cause. 

“Will we go to bed angry with each other?” Ned asked. 

By then, Catelyn knew what she wanted to say to him. She pulled up an article on one of their computers, one that discussed Cersei’s upcoming fashion show. All the details surrounding the event were recorded within. It would be held at the Dragon’s Theater and attended by every A-lister in Westeros, even some from Essos. The most important part to Catelyn, though was the picture towards the bottom of the page, right where Sansa said it would be. Photographs of Cersei littered the article, but this one included several of her employees alongside her. Her beautiful Sansa was standing to Cersei’s right.

“Do you see our daughter?” she asked him. 

He squinted at the page. “I see her,” he said, wholly unimpressed. 

“Do you see how happy she is?” 

Ned looked longer at the photo. Anyone could see Sansa’s beaming smile, less reserved than Cersei’s, but no less professional. Her lovely yellow dress, bright blue eyes, and shiny red hair attracted the viewer’s eye immediately to her. He finally admitted, “She looks happier than I’ve seen her in a while.” 

Catelyn hummed pointedly. “Don’t ruin this for her, Ned. She needs to know you support her decision to stay in King’s Landing.” 

“I don’t want her so swept up with Cersei Baratheon Lannister that she loses herself.”

“Do you have so little faith in the woman we raised her to be?” 

“People change easily, Cat, especially when they’re away from everything they know. I know how glamourous the Lannisters look from the outside. You’re right, Sansa’s wanted this her whole life. She has it now. What scares me is what she’ll do to keep it.” 

Xx

“Cersei,  _ you  _ are the center of that photo! And you’re the focus of several others in the article! The article is about  _ you _ , my love, not Sansa Stark,” Jaime tried to assure her over the phone from his car. He didn’t know why he bothered speaking about it, though. Cersei was prone to anger and liable to remain angry for a while. Quick tempers were integral to the Baratheon family. 

“Did you see the picture?”

“Yes, of course I saw it. It’s only in the news because  _ your  _ upcoming show is the most anticipated fashion show of the season. Sansa has told you how grateful she is that you’ve let her be a part of it.” 

“Do you know she asked me about a charity show today? She even pitched a couple designs, like she’s been working on it for a while.” 

Jaime groaned. “Don’t worry about Sansa. She can’t take your company from you; she can only add to it. If she wants to do some philanthropic work, I think it could be something to consider.”

“No, I won’t consider it,” she said abruptly before ending the call. Jaime tossed his phone back into his pocket with a laugh. Some days his wife spoke of Sansa more than she spoke of their children. His driver, Barristan, didn’t say anything, but Jaime saw the small shake of the man’s head, which revealed what he thought of Cersei’s irrational behavior.

“Life would be quite boring without that temper of hers,” he remarked.

Barristan chuckled. “Indeed, sir.” 

When they arrived at the estate, Jaime found his father in the downstairs parlor. He could hear the children terrorizing the nanny upstairs, and he would usually go relieve her first, but it was unusual for his father to be at the Lannister estate, even though it technically belonged to him. Tywin Lannister lived in the apartments of the Red Keep, as did all members of the government. He didn’t often stay at the estate. 

“Father?”

Tywin looked up critically. “Jaime, I’ve been waiting for you.” 

“It must be important. You don’t always make your way back to the estate.” 

“Yes, well, I’m planning to host a special dinner here.” 

Jaime sat across from him and tried to take a closer look at what he was writing. He peered closer and saw that it was some sort of list. “What’s the occasion?” he asked. 

“No occasion. We haven’t had a good party here for a while. I’m writing the guest list now. I’ll suggest to your brother that he ask to escort Sansa Stark to Cersei’s fashion show sometime during the dinner.” 

Jaime stared disbelievingly at his father while the man kept focus on his pen and paper. “Could you run that by me again?”

Tywin paused and met Jaime’s eyes, the faintest smile on his face. “I mean for Tyrion to spend more time with the Stark girl. He seemed impressed with her over the summer, and I think they’d make a fine match.”

“Tyrion and Sansa?” Jaime repeated. “Father, I can’t believe you’re playing matchmaker, and poorly at that.” 

Tywin no longer appeared amused. “I’m not going to pass on the opportunity to have Sansa Stark in the family. She is young, pretty, and the Stark name is a noble one.” 

“And here I thought parents let their children marry for love in this new age.” 

“The children do marry for love,” insisted his father. “The parents must insure they fall in love with the right people. How do you think you and Cersei got to know each other?”

“You can’t say you planned for us to marry.”

“I planned for Cersei or Lysa Tully. If your mother had it her way, you’d have married Elia Martell.” Jaime was so surprised, he couldn’t speak. “Parents arrange chances for their children to meet. You didn’t take to Lysa Tully, but it was good you liked Cersei Baratheon.”

“I can’t believe you and Steffon Baratheon pushed us together.” 

“Of course, we did. We wanted what was best for our families. These marriages are good for business, and it wasn’t just us.  _ All _ the noble families have the sense to do it. We’ve been organizing ways for our children to make advantageous marriages for years. It’s how Ned Stark married Catelyn Tully and Lysa Tully married Jon Arryn. But after the Tower of Joy incident, Ned Stark was hesitant to do the same for his children, which is why it is critical to work fast while Sansa Stark lives in King’s Landing.”

He shook his head. “It won’t work this time, Father. Tyrion won’t go for Sansa Stark.”

“I disagree.” 

“She doesn’t intrigue him the way you think she does. His fondness for her is brotherly at most.”

“Something may develop,” his father replied stubbornly. “I’ll sit them beside each other at dinner and suggest he escort her to the show. I’m sure Sansa and Tyrion will enjoy their night with you and Cersei.”

_ Poor Cersei _ , Jaime thought. She’d have to spend her big night close to Sansa. Jaime would enjoy it, if for nothing more than entertainment. “I think you’re wasting your time.” 

“You’ve made that clear, but she will have many offers while she stays in King’s Landing. Why do you think the Tyrells invited her to spend the summer with them? It wasn’t for Margaery’s benefit, but Loras Tyrell’s. That invitation had Olenna’s fingerprints all over it.” 

“It’s no wonder why Loras didn’t spark anything with her,” Jaime commented dryly, thinking about the rumors regarding Loras Tyrell’s private life.

“Yes, but Olenna always has to try.”

“So do you, apparently,” said son to father. “Even if something came from your meddling, Ned Stark would never consent to a marriage between his daughter and a Lannister. He hates us.” 

“The marriage would be too beneficial not to consider, no matter his animosity,” Tywin replied.

“So you’ve thought it all through then?”

“Since she was first introduced to me.” 

“She’s been introduced to me too, Father. She’s too traditional for Tyrion, too refined. She’s a perfect lady, and Tyrion doesn’t want someone like that to spend the rest of his life with.”

“I’ll hear no more protests from you about it, Jaime. I want to incorporate Sansa Stark into the Lannister family—”

“ _ Incorporate _ is the perfect word.” 

His father’s steely gaze chilled him. “I thought you would be more receptive to having a sister-in-law. I thought you would want your brother to be happy. Do you dislike the girl? Is that why you’re hesitant to accept her?”

“That’s not the case at all. Knowing them both, I don’t think they’re right for each other, but I won’t stop you from trying. If it doesn’t work, I’ll be content to know I was right.”    

“Very well,” acquiesced Tywin. A loud crash from upstairs alarmed them. “You’d better check on my grandchildren.”

Another crash followed, and Jaime accepted the dismissal to greet his rambunctious children. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Jaime/Sansa interactions are really going to pick up in the next chapter. Thanks so much for reading!


	4. A Beautiful Show

Cersei’s favorite color to wear was red. It looked the best on her, the color of desire, and so she wore it as often as she liked. She wore a red dress to the dinner Tywin had planned for them. It was one she’d designed a year ago, with bell sleeves and high slits. Jaime had seen her in it before, but it didn’t stop him from staring breathlessly again, always thankful that he was hers. 

Cersei sat between him and his cousin Lancel. The two were chatting away about the fashion show, so he listened in on how his brother’s arranged marriage was faring. Tyrion sat to his left, and Sansa was placed between Tyrion and their patriarch. Lannisters comprised most of the dinner party—his uncles, his aunts, his cousins. Baratheons filled in the other seats. Cersei’s brothers were here, even Robert. A score of Lannisters, a handful of Baratheons, and one Stark. Surely everyone wanted to know how  _ she _ had earned a seat next to the head of the table. 

Sansa appropriately wore gold, as if she knew what Tywin saw when he looked at her. The sleeves hung off her shoulders, displaying smooth porcelain skin, and the silk of the knee-length frock cinched at the waist before flaring into a modest skirt. Her red hair was delicately styled and secured upon her head with golden barrettes. 

“You look lovely, Sansa,” his father purred.

She smiled sweetly, sweetly enough that Jaime wondered if the gold was an accident. He wondered if she had any idea what men wanted from her. Clearly Ned Stark hadn’t prepared her for Southern society. “Thank you, Mr. Vice President.”

“You have been such a help to my daughter-in-law. We’re all grateful that Tyrion recommended you.”

“Not as grateful as I am, surely. This has been a dream come true for me.”

“Tell me, is this dress from Cersei’s newest collection? It’s lovely.” 

“No, sir. It’s one I made myself, but thank you.”

_ One she made herself _ , he smirked. He hoped Cersei heard that. He loved it when she was riled up, eyes wild and pulse racing. 

“Tyrion’s appraisal of your talent was well earned then,” said their father.

“I have quite the eye for these things,” Tyrion remarked and poured himself another glass of wine.

“Will you be going to the show at the Dragon’s Theater, Tyrion? It would be good of you to support your sister-in-law.” 

“Yes, it would be good for the papers to believe that we are the image of wholesome family love,” his brother quipped bitterly. 

Jaime shared a look with his father, as if to say the elder man should have listened to him. A young girl with all the optimism in the world had no use for a disillusioned banker, especially one whose favorite activities were drinking and debt collection. 

Tyrion was no fool to his father’s plan, either. It wasn’t often that Tyrion was seated closer to their father than Jaime was, nor did he have any other reason for flattering Sansa as he had. Perhaps Tyrion meant to drive Sansa away in front of their father before his idea could take root. 

One look at their father showed he was not pleased with Tyrion’s remark. “Perhaps you could accompany Miss Stark,” he suggested sternly. 

“Perhaps I could. What do you say, Sansa? How would you like an evening of front row seats, an endless flow of wine, and my superior wit?”

Jaime resisted the urge to scoff when he saw Sansa blush. “I’d be honored, sir.”

As the night progressed, he listened on as his father fawned over the girl and his stomach churned as she graciously accepted every bit of his attention, as she flattered Tyrion whenever their father left her an opening. He had no issue with Sansa Stark before this dinner; her dedication to work had even amused him since it was such a characteristically  _ Stark _ quality. Now, though, he realized she was no different from everyone else. His father looked at her and saw gold, and so did she see gold in his brother.  

“So, the Starks don’t have enough money for you?” he barked at her when he’d had the chance to approach her after dinner. 

The happiness faded from her eyes. “Forgive me, Mr. Lannister, I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Keep up those pretty smiles, and you’ll be married to my brother by the end of the year. You must know that’s the truth of it. There’s no need to play dumb.” 

She frowned. “I’m not trying to marry your brother.” 

“My father would say otherwise.”

“Your father has been a gracious host to me. It would be rude to refuse his attentions or the attentions of Tyrion.” After a sip from her champagne glass, she added, “I don’t want your gold.”

“Most people do, so you can understand why I am wary.” 

She leaned closer to him as he had done when he accused her and reminded him, “I have no need for your gold.” 

“One can never have too much.” 

“My father taught us otherwise,” she said firmly before she made the decision to provoke the man even more. “He liked to use your family as an example.” 

Jaime laughed indignantly. “Good old Ned Stark, always judging, never learning. He doesn’t seem to have taught his children the most important lessons.”

“He has taught my siblings and I what it means to be honorable.” 

“Honorable?” repeated Jaime with a sneer. “I do hope when my children grow up, they don’t say I taught them to be  _ honorable _ .” He surprised her with his statement, he could tell. “I hope they say I taught them to be intelligent and passionate. I hope they say I gave them the skills to succeed in this world. Honor is not high on the list.” 

“From a man like you, I’d expect nothing else,” she uttered sweetly, as if it was a compliment, but the steel in her eyes sang a different song. She wanted the words to cut him, and she succeeded. How did the Starks get the reputation as the honorable ones? He’d asked himself that question for years. It was Ned’s sister, Sansa’s aunt, who quite shamefully eloped with Rhaegar Targaryen, and the world looked the other way. The world mourned when they died. It was Ned Stark who had stayed in the comfort of his home when the power shifted from Aerys Targaryen to Robert Baratheon. Jaime had been serving in the military, fresh from warfronts, obeying the orders of his government. Then he was dishonorably discharged by Aerys’s dishonorable council, and now he lived with it like a brand. The girl in front of him knew nothing. He had nothing else to say to her and turned on his heel to walk away, dreading the evening of Cersei’s show when he would have to see her again.

The evening came quickly, he noted unpleasantly, as he straightened his crisp tuxedo jacket. Cersei had been getting ready in a separate room for hours, and Tyrion was already dressed. Any minute the limousine would arrive at the Lannister Estate with Sansa Stark as the passenger, and the four of them would travel to the Dragon’s Theater in the same car they’d sent for Sansa.      

His unpleasant thoughts ended when he spotted Cersei in the reflection of his mirror, looking beautiful as ever. What did it matter if their fathers had pushed them together if they had fallen so truly in love, he thought. His smile deepened as he turned towards her. He wanted to press a passionate kiss to her lips, but she pushed him away.

“Cersei,” he protested. 

“Lipstick,” she said. She offered her hand instead, and he kissed it chastely. She smiled down on him when he bent to kiss her hand and extended her other to fix his hair. Her brow furrowed when a few stray strands wouldn’t stay in their place. “You didn’t put enough gel in your hair.”

“I put more than enough.”

“You need more,” she insisted. “You look a mess.” 

He caught her hand just as she tried to smooth his hair again. He knew how his hair looked; he knew he was photo-ready for the society column. Cersei knew it too, she just wanted to pick at him. He lowered her hand to its place at her side. “It’s time for us to go.”

Just then, Tyrion entered the room, announcing that Sansa had arrived. With a heavy sigh, he walked downstairs to one of the rooms the children kept as a playroom. They were there now with their nanny, so caught up with her that they barely noticed when he called their names. Myrcella ran to him first, and he worried that she would cry again as she did earlier when Cersei had told her that the children weren’t going with them. Tommen was still too young to want to go to parties with their parents, but Myrcella knew. She knew her parents worked too much, and she knew her parents were leaving her again this evening. One day she’d know her father’s guilt. 

“I love you,” he said with a kiss to his daughter’s head. 

“I love you too, Daddy,” repeated her small voice.

“I love you more.” She shook her head with a smile. “Yes, I do. I will always love you more, Myrcella. Be good for Bernadette.”  

Tyrion kissed Sansa’s cheek when Addam escorted her to the three Lannisters waiting in the parlor, adding some remark that no one would be able to focus on the models when she looked so beautiful. Jaime scoffed, though no one paid him any mind.

On their way out, he grabbed his brother’s shoulder and pulled him back. “I thought you didn’t want a relationship with Sansa,” he whispered. 

“I don’t. We’re merely friends.” 

“You flatter her too much, brother. It’s sickening.” 

His brother laughed. “You’ll find if you focus more on the supposed object of your affection and less on what I do with Sansa Stark, you won’t be bothered as much.” 

Any doubts about his brother’s behavior vanished when Tyrion transformed back into the vulgar, cunning man he knew and loved once they’d seated themselves in the limousine. 

“Tell me, sweet sister, will you be able to send any of your models home with me this evening? Surely they won’t mind.”

“Surely falling off the stage would be less embarrassing,” his wife replied.

“But in the end, they’d face less of your wrath.” 

A small turn of Sansa’s lips indicated that she was not as humorless as her father. Attempting to keep Cersei and Tyrion from provoking each other further, Jaime said to Sansa, “I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long in the South, Miss Stark. Northern wolves don’t often stray from their packs.”

“The South is kind to  _ this  _ Northern wolf,” she told him, “and my pack is never more than a phone call away.”

“I’ve considered straying from my own pack,” Tyrion remarked, throwing a glare Cersei’s way. Jaime had accepted long ago that they would never share any love between them, and he’d done his best to weather their storms in the years he’d been married to Cersei. They’d been married for five years now, Jaime remembered, but a lifetime together they’d shared. They played together when they were children; his father was always encouraging them to play together. How could Jaime have never seen that his marriage was his father’s plot?

“Don’t decide too quickly,” Sansa warned playfully. “You don’t realize how terribly you’ll miss them.”

“What do you miss the most?” Tyrion asked her, instead of dredging up the resentful relationship he shared with his father or the long-suffering hate towards his sister-in-law. 

 The Stark girl smiled fondly. “The snow. The snow was the only thing we all loved. My sister, my brothers, my cousin, the six of us could play in the snow together for hours.” She seemed to play a memory in her mind and focus on it until she remembered where she was. She whispered solemnly, “It doesn’t snow much down here.”

“Hardly at all,” mused Cersei. “Only during the coldest winters, and even still it’s rare.” 

“ _ This  _ is supposed to be a cold winter,” Jaime suddenly remembered. 

“It is. Perhaps you’ve brought the snow with you,” suggested Tyrion. He probably meant to snap the Stark girl out of her sudden crestfallen mood, but there was no need. Her melancholy disappeared as quickly as it came. 

“I’ll have to tell my siblings to come visit me this winter. We can play in the snow together again.”

“I think one Stark is enough,” Jaime said, and he realized the bite was gone from his words. He had not meant to insult her; it was close to a lighthearted jest, and she laughed at it. 

“One Stark to a whole family of Lannisters is hardly fair.”

Jaime mentioned, “You don’t seem to need the extra numbers.”

 

Sansa and Cersei kept their eyes glued to the stage for the entire show. Cersei’s eyes were calculating, Sansa’s joyful. When one of the models lost her balance towards the end of the runway, Cersei seethed. The girl would never have a place in one of her shows again. Still, even to her critical eye, most everything went perfectly. Each flash of a photographer’s camera did wonders for her mood. She kept Jaime’s hand clasped within hers and squeezed it anytime her husband tried to talk to Tyrion. They all needed to look perfect tonight. 

Towards the end of the show, Sansa’s mood visibly dampened. Her face grew sullen, though she remained focused on the theater in front of her. Despite her efforts to remain impassive, Tyrion noticed. 

“What’s the matter, Miss Stark?” he asked her. “From what I can tell, this has been a beautiful show.” 

“Yes, it is,” Sansa agreed. When the curtain closed, the finality of it gave her a headache. Everything was perfectly clear to her now. She leaned in closer to her escort and admitted woefully, “She cut every single one of my designs.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Five of the dresses were supposed to be mine. When I showed her the sketches, she said she’d put them in the show if I made them myself, and I worked so hard making them. They were even backstage when she and I went to approve the final outfits. She cut me out of the show.”

Tyrion didn’t have any words to comfort the girl. He wasn’t really surprised by Cersei’s actions, but he felt partially responsible. He had recommended her for the position, knowing a Stark girl was too valuable to disregard. It seemed his sister-in-law had changed her strategy and intended to make Sansa run back to the North. 

Cersei leaned over Jaime to catch their attention. “Well, what did you think, Sansa?” she asked with a smirk. 

Sansa smiled peacefully. “More spectacular than I could have imagined,” she chirped.

Tyrion laughed. The little wolf wasn’t going anywhere. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, love hearing from you and thank you so much for reading!


	5. Bitter Partings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love, love, love the response to this story! As always, thank you so much! You are all the best!

Autumn had unveiled the new line, but Winter would see it in stores. The warehouses were busier than ever at the turn of the season. Style of Cersei had so many distribution orders to fill, and Sansa was one of the employees overseeing all of it. 

She hated going down to the warehouses, and she hated the way the workers looked at her. She knew working conditions weren’t great; the wages too low and hours too long. She was suddenly self-conscious of her outfit, especially the expensive high heels and accessories she’d opted to wear. Her mother always dressed simply, but Sansa loved to shine. These weren’t the people who wanted to see her, though. 

The inundation of distribution orders had left the warehouse employees with no option but to work the extra hours. While Sansa was intimidated by Cersei, surely  _ she _ was in a position to discuss it with her. Cersei mostly treated her like a secretary, but she was still the daughter of Ned Stark. Her name carried weight, and she knew it was important to Tywin Lannister that her name stayed associated with the Lannisters.  

It helped, too, that Cersei’s brother Robert held a life-long friendship with her father. Sansa was often invited to dine with the President’s family on Sunday nights, as the President invited his entire family to the Red Keep for a special dinner. Sansa suspected it was mostly to keep up appearances since she couldn’t imagine the humorless Stannis Baratheon willingly sharing wine with someone like Tyrion, or even Robert, who loved his wine so much there was hardly any left for the rest of them.  

“Tell me, Sansa,” the President began one night when he’d indulged a little too much in his favorite red, “How does your father feel about your future husband?”

“He sleeps well knowing there isn’t one to worry about at the present,” she replied good-naturedly. 

Robert laughed. “That’s what you tell him up in the North, but here in King’s Landing the talk is Tyrion Lannister’s swept you off your feet.” Color swept across Sansa’s cheeks. “I can’t imagine that’s an easy task, especially for a man so small.”

“You can’t trust these rumors, Robert,” Tyrion told him. “There’s not a shred of truth to them.” 

“I don’t know. Sansa’s face is as red as her hair,” Renly Baratheon mentioned, and Sansa wished he would have the compassion to exclude himself from the discussion; she’d heard a few discourteous rumors about him, too. 

“You’ve been escorting her to these dinners in your own limousine,” Robert added.

“She doesn’t have one of her own, but don’t worry. She can walk back to her apartment. We’ll put these rumors to rest.” 

Sansa’s eyes widened. Surely he didn’t mean it, but he’d had quite a bit to drink for himself. 

“Nonsense, Tyrion,” Tywin said. “The President makes his comments in good fun.” 

“Oh, no, I think I’ll have her walk. See how your meddling serves you now. It’s a shame she dresses so well, someone will probably think she has something valuable on her. Those earrings aren’t  _ real _ sapphires, are they, Sansa? I wouldn’t want anyone to rob you.”

No one at the table was laughing anymore. No one even dared to speak. The only sound at the large dining room table was that of Tyrion pouring more wine.

Jaime was the first to break the silence. “Cersei and I will take her home since you’ve offended my brother to wrath.”

“His wrath is further indication that he  _ is  _ carrying on an affair with Sansa. Only men under the influence of a woman act so irrationally.” 

Jaime smiled sinisterly. “Yes, I recall your actions after the death of another Stark.” 

Robert’s face immediately sobered, and he hurled his wine glass towards Jaime in a fit of anger. “Get out!” he shouted in a tone Sansa had never heard from the President before. “Cersei, get him out of my sight!”

“Darling, Miss Stark, I believe it’s time for us to go,” Jaime said icily. 

Ashamed, Sansa followed the couple to their limousine. She’d never attended a dinner like that before. She never wanted to attend one like it again. She tried to focus on the bright side. “Thank you for offering to take me home,” she said, but they both ignored her. 

“How could you say that to my brother?” Cersei demanded. “How could you embarrass yourself like that?”

“Your brother does a good job embarrassing himself without my interference. What kind of host drinks himself into oblivion and offends his guests?”

Cersei shook her head. “No one,” she growled, “speaks Lyanna’s name.”

“I didn’t say her name.”

“You may as well have.”

“So I can’t say anything to your brother, but when he insults mine--”

“What was insulting?”

“Tyrion’s been unlucky in love too. Robert had no business commenting on a relationship of his that does not exist.”

Cersei laughed mirthlessly before her tone hardened. “My brother outranks your brother. My brother outranks your father. My brother outranks  _ you _ . My brother is the President of Westeros, and you are married to his sister. Remember that next time.” 

Sansa longed for her bedroom. She wished the driver would go faster, but she bet it was another fifteen minutes before she’d arrive. Jaime and Cersei didn’t say another word to each other the rest of the way, but somehow that wasn’t better. The tension in the car made her weary to even breathe too loudly. 

When the car stopped in front of her apartment building, Cersei said to her, “You won’t be attending dinner next week. Even if Robert invites you after this fiasco, you’ll be too busy processing the warehouse orders.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you again for driving me. Have a good night.”

“You, too,” said Jaime when Cersei said nothing. 

Cersei didn’t mention the incident again for the rest of the week, but she kept Sansa busier than ever. Most days Cersei required her to be at the office before 7 when the woman herself didn’t come in until 9 and spent a majority of her time with her marketing officer, Lancel. Sandor didn’t drop her off at her apartment until 8:00 that night. The long hours had Sansa wondering if this job was suited for her, but if she walked away from Cersei Baratheon Lannister, she’d never work in the fashion industry again.

She was sipping on some herbal tea at home when her phone rang, the noise startling her. She almost answered  _ Style of Cersei, this is Sansa Stark  _ before she remembered it was her personal phone.  

“Hello?”

“Sansa?” Her brother Robb said her name desperately, in a way that shot fear through her heart. Robb never called her directly. They spoke through sporadic text messages. She realized she hadn’t heard her older brother’s voice since she left for King’s Landing with Margaery, and she wished it didn’t sound like this. 

“Robb, what’s wrong?”

He sighed. “It’s Bran. He’s been in a terrible accident. He’s in a coma right now.”

“What?” she cried out, tears forming in her eyes. How could this happen? Her baby brother…

“We need you to come home right away,” Robb continued. 

“O-Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can. He’s in a  _ coma _ ?”

“Yeah, a coma.”

“Mother and Father--”

“They need you here as much as Bran does. We all need to be together now.”

“I’ll be there soon,” she promised.

 The shock of it settled over her heavily, and when her brother hung up, the hysterics sank in. Her tea was completely forgotten as she booked a flight home to Winterfell, the computer screen blurry through the tears. A million thoughts raced through her mind and all of them were linked to Bran--how he used to love nothing more than climbing trees and how much he hated it when his sisters fought. She remembered how he would listen in on her piano lessons the same way he would watch Robb and Arya practice their archery. 

Once she managed to compose herself, she decided to call Cersei and explain the situation.

“How awful,” Cersei told her, “but this is the busiest we have been all year. I can’t give you leave to go. You’re the link between my warehouses and our buyers.”

“ _ What _ ?” Sansa said, anger and despair swelling inside her. “My brother may never wake up again. I have to go.”

“And you are free to. Just don’t expect to have a job when you return.”

“Then I won’t have one.”

Cersei huffed. “Well, don’t think you’ll ever work in this industry again. I own this world you love so much.”

As tears streamed down Sansa’s face, she held the phone firmly to her ear and told the woman she had once admired so much, “I do love it, but not as much as I love my family. I’m leaving tonight.”

“What a shame. You had so much potential.”    

_ I know _ , Sansa wanted to say.  _ I’ll be back, and I’ll make sure you don’t own anything anymore _ , but that wasn’t how her mother raised her.

 

“Oh, I could just strangle her,” Cersei said as she entered the master bedroom after checking on the children, tucked away in their beds.

“You’ve got quite the list going lately. Me, Tyrion, Sansa Stark. Anyone else?”

“How did you know I was talking about her?”

Jaime laughed. “Only she provokes you this much. Tyrion doesn’t even make you shout anymore,” he told her. “So what has she done now?”

“She’s leaving. She’s going back to Winterfell as we speak. Her brother’s had some kind of accident and he’s in a coma.”

Jaime pursed his lips. “Surely you understand why she’s going back to Winterfell?”

“She knows how busy we are,” Cersei said, puzzling Jaime.

“And what if something like that happened to one of your brothers? Wouldn’t you do the same for Robert, Stannis, or Renly?” She hesitated. Her silence dragged on for too long. “For me and the children?” he added desperately.

“Of course for you or the children,” she insisted, rolling her eyes. “How could you ask something like that?”

“Sometimes you act like your work is the most important thing in your life.” 

“Work keeps our lifestyle. We’re different from everybody else, and we have to put in the effort to stay that way.” 

“So if Tommen’s ever in a coma, Myrcella should just stay at work?” he queried. Cersei didn’t answer him as she readied herself for bed, ignoring him entirely. “Did you at least offer our sympathy?”

Cersei tugged angrily at a hanger for her dress. “Do you have any idea what kind of position she’s left me in? Lancel will have to pick up the slack!”

Jaime rose from their bed to confront her face-to-face. “She is a Stark! Her brother’s a Stark! As a Baratheon and a Lannister, it was up to you to extend the courtesy of our families. Now we may never expect to do business with the Starks again.” 

“Oh, you sound just like your father.”  

He didn’t comment on that. He didn’t have the warmest relationship with his father, but he respected the man. There was still a lot he had to learn from him on how to keep Lannister Companies afloat. Instead, he decided, “I’m sending her a car to take her to the airport.”

“What? Why?” As Jaime picked up his phone to make the arrangements, she tugged at his arm. “Jaime, it’s not necessary.” 

Once the work was done, Cersei didn’t speak to him again for the rest of the night. She left to her work the morning without a word, only goodbyes for the children. She probably wouldn’t have anything to say to him that night either, but he couldn’t let that distract him. He had a meeting with his investors. As he left, though, his mind strayed for a moment to ponder a dangerous thought.  _ Had Cersei always been so cruel? _


	6. A Broken Foundation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've been away from my Jaimsa fics for so long! This chapter's a little shorter than the others, but I do hope you enjoy it and know that I haven't abandoned my stories. Thanks for reading!

Sansa would have liked to keep watch by Bran’s bedside, but that was the permanent spot of her mother now. The shell of Catelyn Stark sat up in her chair through day and night, holding her son’s hands in her own, praying over his body. No one could persuade her to move, not even Sansa’s father, who had more sway over her than anyone else. 

Sansa visited him a couple times in the hospital, but it was always the same. He still hadn’t woken up. She didn’t know how her mother could stand it, watching Bran’s still body; it was the most heartbreaking thing Sansa had ever seen. 

Instead she mostly stayed at home and looked after her youngest brother Rickon. She helped him with his lessons and made sure Arya always had a hot meal, even though the younger girl never appreciated it. She made coffee for her father every morning since that was something her mother usually did for him and checked in with Robb and Jon while they worked.

This was the only way she could help her mother, by fulfilling her responsibilities as the lady of the house while her mother mourned. 

She still sketched when she had the time after everyone else had gone to bed. She felt guilty working on her designs when there was other work to be done, when Bran still wasn’t stable in his condition.

Everyday she braced herself for another painful phone call. She received a phone call from Arya on one of her younger sister’s visits to the hospital, but it wasn’t the painful one she’d expected.

“Sansa, he’s waking up!”

“What?” Tears sprang to her eyes as suddenly as they had when Robb called her in King’s Landing.

“The doctors didn’t think it would happen, but it did! Get here as soon as you can.”

She did, throwing on her shoes, barely remembering to brush her hair, rejoicing that her baby brother was going to make it. Their family would be alright; they always pulled through. Almost as perfect as embracing Bran was the sight of her whole family in the hospital room. It had been months since they were all together. 

“I’ll have to be in a wheelchair until my legs heal,” Bran told her. She knew it would be hard for Bran, but nothing could take away the joy of hearing his voice again. 

“We’ll all help you. The time will go by.” 

“I’m glad you’re home, Sansa.”

She hugged him tighter. “Me too.” 

She took comfort in the months back at home with her mother and Bran. As he went through physical therapy and relearned how to walk, she felt like a mother herself watching her child take his first steps. If he stumbled, she helped him regain his balance and cheered him on. When he took off running for the first time since his awful fall, she sobbed hysterical, happy tears. 

Once Bran was recovering, Sansa didn’t feel as guilty for returning to her sketches, though there was nothing to do with them aside from let them collect dust on her nightstand. Now that Catelyn returned to take care of the household, she couldn’t help but feel a little out of place, as unnecessary as her sketches. 

She’d told her family what happened with Cersei, and they all reacted as she expected. Her father even remarked that she never should have gone to King’s Landing in the first place. “It wasn’t all bad. I loved my time in King’s Landing,” she told her father, but he seemed like he didn’t hear her. If she was truthful, part of her yearned to go back.

“Your place is in the North.” 

“What can I do?”

“You can look after your siblings.”

_ Mother does that _ , she wanted to say. Her father would never have her in his factories or at the board meetings he always sent Robb and Jon to. Arya would be going off to school. Bran was recovering, and Rickon was too busy being a child. Sansa wasn’t a child anymore. She was an adult, and she needed her purpose returned to her. It started to become clear her purpose wasn’t in Winterfell anymore.   

One morning soon after her realization, Sansa rose early and brewed the morning pot of coffee. While she heard her favorite Arbor roast  _ drip drip drip _ into the carafe, she decided to turn on the television for some background noise as she skimmed through a magazine. However, she lost all interest in the fashion magazine once she saw the headline on the television screen. 

_ Cersei Baratheon caught with Jaime Lannister’s cousin _ . 

“Oh, my God,” she whispered aloud once the meaning of the headline sank in. It wasn’t hard for her to figure out which cousin it was either. She remembered all the private meetings Cersei would have with Lancel--she’d never thought anything of it before; she never thought Cersei would do something like that to Jaime. Their relationship was the most popular union in Westeros, which meant this news would be circulating in the media every day for the next few weeks at least. 

She suddenly felt angry and needed to call someone to talk about it with. Her parents wouldn’t be affected by it, none of her siblings would care, but Margaery…

“I can’t believe she cheated on him.”

“You can’t?” Margaery asked incredulously. “You know her. She’s cruel through and through.”

“To us, yes. But, I thought--I guess I thought she really loved him.” 

“Sansa, Dear, people like Cersei only love themselves. Look on the bright side:  Jaime Lannister’s back on the market.”

“How could you say something like that?” Sansa wondered. “I can’t imagine what he must be going through. They have two children together. They have companies together.” 

“You really are worked up about this,” her friend noted. “You have such a sensitive heart.” 

Sansa rolled her eyes, though she knew deep down it was true. Sometimes she credited her sheltered background, but still she was different from Arya and her brothers. It must just be her. Part of the reason she felt so terribly was because Jaime had proven to her that he was a good person, despite her original impression of him. She remembered how defensive he was of his younger brother. She remembered how he had been the one to send a car to take her to the airport all those months ago.

“Margaery, are you spending the summer in King’s Landing?” she asked abruptly. 

“Yes, we spend every summer in King’s Landing.” 

“Are we close enough friends that I can offer myself an invitation to stay with you?”

Margaery laughed heartily. “Of course we are! I haven’t seen you in so long. You have to come stay with me again.”

Sansa smiled. She was going back to King’s Landing. 


	7. A Breath of Fresh Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated this story, and I'm remembering how much I love writing this one. Expect another update for this and From Ancient Grudge very soon!

The media was relentless. Reporters outside his home, outside the Red Keep, outside the many buildings comprising Lannister Companies. They shouted questions at him, at his children. It was all too much to take. 

“The damage those two have done…” thought Tywin aloud.

“I could _kill_ Lancel.”

“We all could. This scandal has destroyed our image beyond repair.”

“I’m concerned with a little more than my image, Father. My children, for example.”

“They are too young to let such things affect them.” 

“They are old enough to know something is terribly wrong.” 

“Yes. It would seem their mother’s a whore,” spoke Tyrion. 

The three Lannister men sat together on one of the balconies of the estate, each smoking Dornish cigars. Outside the gates, reporters waited for one of them to leave. Inside, Jaime could pretend it wasn’t happening. 

But everything around him was so quick to remind him that his whole world had fallen apart beyond repair. His father had forbidden Cersei’s presence in the estate, so she’d left and tried to take the children with her. His father had protested that too, and then Cersei tried to involve her brothers, followed by Tywin involving _his_ brothers. No compromise had been reached. The courts would have to decide, and until then, Jaime allowed Cersei to take them. He had just wanted her out of his sight. Besides, he was in no state to care for them adequately. 

All he could do was smoke a cigar and listen to his father and brother prattle on. 

“From now on, the Lannisters sever all ties with the Baratheons. No more business conducted between the two,” Tywin announced. 

“You’re Robert Baratheon’s Vice President.”

Tywin smiled. “His term will be up soon enough. Someone else will come along.” 

“It astonishes me that you never run.” 

“Of course not. How else would I be as successful as I am?”

Jaime didn’t have the stomach for the conversation much longer. “Am I needed at work?” he asked, effectively changing the subject. 

“I told you to take a leave of absence.”

“Yes, Brother, relax a little bit.” 

“And do what exactly? Get a massage and remember that my wife’s been fucking my cousin? I’d really like to do something else.”  

“You’re too controversial a figure to be seen at the offices right now.” 

Jaime bolted up from his chair. “ _ I’m _ controversial?” he shouted. “What have  _ I  _ done? She’s the one who wrecked everything. I didn’t betray her. i didn’t ruin this marriage. Why do I have to hide?” 

“Calm down, son. It will all blow over soon enough. In the meantime, it is best to stay out of public.” 

Jaime smiled sinisterly. “Right. It’s best to hide our emotions, isn’t it? And you don’t trust me to do that.” 

“You have a history of impulsivity,” Tywin reminded his son. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything you would later regret.” 

“Or the family would regret,” added Tyrion. “We wouldn’t want to taint our image even more.” 

“And  _ when  _ do you propose I start working again? I’m supposed to go to Essos in two months to manage production on the schools. Will I even be able to do that?”

“By then you may. But right now, you have no need to visit the Lannister offices. Your Uncle Tygett is overseeing everything in your absence.” 

Jaime snorted. 

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough,” Tywin said.

“I’m the one who’s suffering the most here. I think I’m taking it pretty seriously.” 

“No one is disputing that, but Cersei and Lancel’s actions could have ramifications for the whole country. The situation needs to be handled with utmost care.”

“Oh, here we go,” said Tyrion, sensing one of their father's lectures.

“Do you know what kind of government we inherited from Aerys? Do you know how much he devastated the country? How many people were killed due to mandatory service overseas in a war no one supported? How many intelligent people were imprisoned wrongfully for opposing him? Do you remember?” 

“ _ Of course  _ I remember,” Jaime said. 

“And do you know what held it all together when his government came crumbling down?” Neither of his sons answered him. “Stark. Lannister. Baratheon. Tully. Arryn. Martell. Tyrell. Seven Ancient families kept this country together. Their contributions saved this economy from total depression. It was their commitment to each other to keep the peace. We are at the helm of this country. Now that there are problems between the Baratheons and Lannisters, albeit personal problems, they will trickle down further and further. Already investments in Lannister Companies have dropped ten percent.” 

Tyrion sipped from his wine glass. “It will recover, Father.” 

“It better.”   

Jaime had no sympathy for the state of the nation at the moment. He could think of nothing bigger than his own fury. He had only loved Cersei his entire life. He had been faithful to her, even while he served in the military, while he was on business trips, while she was away. All along, he had loved her with every inch of his being. 

Now there were so many doubts. Now there was the lingering thought, stabbing at the back of his mind like a prodding needle, that had one reporter not captured Cersei at that exact moment, he _never_ would have known. How long had she been doing this to him, for her to act like nothing was out of the ordinary in their beautiful life? How much practice had she had to kiss him like she had kissed no one else that day, to say all the lovely things she told him like they weren't lovely lies? 

“Will we require Style of Cersei to move from the Lannister buildings?” asked Tyrion.

“That won’t be necessary. Now that she is not a member of the Lannister family, however, she will have to begin paying rent on her offices.”

“She won’t like that,” Jaime said. 

Tywin smiled, and though his father always acted like the family was more important than the individual, it was enough of an indication for Jaime to know his father really was angry on his behalf. “No, she won’t.” 

The opening of the balcony door caught the attention of all three men, and they turned to Addam Marbrand, holding an envelope out in front of him. 

“Apologies, sirs. Master Jaime, this just came for you.” 

Jaime took the envelope and noted his name written neatly on the front. Upon opening it, he found a sweet-smelling card written in the same neat script. “It’s a sympathy card,” he told them. “From Sansa Stark.”

“Sansa Stark?” Tywin asked. 

“It looks handwritten,” Tyrion noted.

“It is.” Jaime flipped the card over and back again, and then examined the envelope. “There’s no postage. She couldn’t have delivered it by hand, could she? Last I heard, she was back home with her family.” 

“Let’s find out from Dear ol’ Addam. Addam! Addam!”

“Yes, Master Tyrion?”

“Who delivered this for Jaime?” Tyrion asked.

“Miss Sansa Stark delivered it herself,” Addam told them. 

“Did you not invite her in?” balked Tyrion. “She is a good friend of the family, and she has been gone for months!” 

“Of course I invited her in, but she wouldn’t accept. She said she did not wish to intrude. She only wanted to deliver the card.” 

“Thank you, Addam.” Their butler bowed his head and promptly left. Tyrion leaned forward in his seat. “So what does it say?”

“None of your business.” 

“That torrid?” Jaime didn’t even stoop to reply. “Well, now we know Sansa is in King’s Landing. I’ll have to invite her for dinner.” 

“Indeed,” remarked Tywin. “I would like to see Sansa again.”

“I didn’t realize you were so fond of her, Father,” Jaime said, though he knew their father thought Sansa would make a good daughter-in-law.  

“I am. Invite her to dinner next week, Tyrion. We’ll host her and your aunt Genna’s family.”

“Consider it done.”

“Will I be allowed to attend this dinner, or am I expected to hide away in my room lest the shame of my ruined marriage taint the food?”

“So dramatic. Both of you were meant for the stage, I swear. You get that from your mother.” 

Jaime used to think he and Cersei were a less tragic version of his mother and father. Tywin and Johanna Lannister had a famously happy marriage, and all too soon the light of his mother had left the world when she died in childbirth. Now he could see Cersei would never hold a candle to the presence that was his mother, and his relationship with her paled in comparison to the pure love his parents shared. It was a heartbreaking realization. He’d had a few of those in recent memory. 

Silence settled upon them, the way it normally did when they spoke of her. Tywin and Jaime were remembering; Tyrion had never known her aside from what they had told him, but Jaime knew he thought of her often. 

“Myrcella’s dramatic too,” Jaime mentioned. “Not Tommen, though. He’s very calm.” 

“He gets that from Father.”

“Yes, but Tommen’s actually sweet.” 

“They both are. Who knows where that comes from?” 

Tywin, who had not taken offense to the jab, answered, “From your mother.” Then he excused himself from the balcony. 

The two remaining men puffed their cigars in unison. “It was nice of Sansa to send a card,” observed Tyrion. 

“I’m still not going to tell you what it says.” 

“I’m sure I can imagine. I bet it’s sweet enough to rot your teeth.” 

“Just about,” replied Jaime, looking over the card once again. In despairing times, there was nothing more comforting than the words of someone who had known heartache too. While not the same kind of pain, Sansa’s anguish over her brother’s injury did lend her some knowledge of the subject. 

“It’s good to know Cersei didn’t chase her out of King’s Landing for good. I was worried for that little wolf. Lannisters are known to bite.”   

“Cersei won’t be a Lannister much longer,” he reminded his brother. In a couple weeks’ time, the painful divorce negotiations would begin, the custody battle, the Lannisters and the Baratheons trying to squeeze every coin out of the other, and the affirmation that he’d spent his entire life loving the wrong person.

"Still, she's back at just the right time. I could use a breath of fresh air." Tyrion discarded his cigar and opened the sliding door of the balcony. Before he entered the house, he added, "You could too." 


End file.
